Wrapping Paper

I mean, it should be easy, right? The thing with the fold and the tap dispenser and flip the corners in with the point and the box and NOOO! JUST STOP!

This is the worst part of the Christmas season.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave out any of my non-Christian friends. But, guys. Wrapping gifts. Am I right?

It doesn’t help that my mother is a gift-wrapping savant. She can wrap cubes, pyramids, tetrahedrons, dodecahedrons, spheres (though I guess spheres wouldn’t be that difficult, right?). Did I get a gift wrapping gene from Mom? Nope. I just put the box on the paper and look up at Mom with a whimper like a guilty puppy that’s just made a mess on the carpet.

And you can’t do gift bags. No, you get judged for gift bags. I mean, I say, “I saw this gift bag and it looked so YOU!” but then I get the judgement stares of, “But, doesn’t this gift bag come in wrapping paper?”

Every Christmas season, we get our designated time in the Wrapping Room. If the door is shut, you must knock and announce yourself so the Wrapper has the chance to give you the all clear. Usually, we have a Wrapping Buddy. Mom has the work station planned out, so the buddy is more moral support then helper. Your elf, as it were, if Santa had OCD.

When we were younger, every present from Santa was wrapped in Santa wrapping paper. I say when we were younger, but that still happens. To this day, I still get gifts from Santa. I’m 26 years old. I am not arguing with this. Santa, I’m a big fan. Keep ’em coming.

Despite my disdain for the Wrapping Paper tradition, I love giving gifts. I love the surprise. I’m one of those people that tries to put tons of thought into a gift. I want to see the reaction. I’ve made people cry with my gift-giving skills and that is a power worth wielding.

What is your Achilles’ heel of the holiday season? Let me know in the comments.